InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Chronicles ❯ InuYasha's Journal ( Chapter 81 )

~*~*~*~*~*~Lemon warning~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Clean version of this chapter can be read here:

http://www.fanfiction.net/s/2068095/81/

 

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~~Chapter 81~~

~InuYasha's Journal~

 

Kagome set her calculus book aside with a groan and rolled her head back. Studying for the two hours hadn't agreed with her at all, but InuYasha had been in the main house talking to Souta—`Man-Talk', Souta had called it. InuYasha had ducked in long enough to tell her that Shippou had pleaded to stay in the main house with `Uncle Souta' before he headed off to bathe.

 

Rolling off the bed to put the textbook on her desk, Kagome stared at the journal peeking out from under InuYasha's haori. He'd taken it off before heading for the bathroom, and she bit her lip as she tried to convince herself that it would be wrong to read his diary without asking.

 

With a sigh, she forced herself away from the allure of the book and ran down the short hallway to the bathroom door. She knocked on the door, hoping he could hear her over the steady drone of running water. “InuYasha? You almost finished?”

 

“Keh! I just got in here, wench!” he hollered back.

 

Kagome made a face as she turned and returned to the bedroom. Catching herself staring at the book once more, she shook her head and whirled around. `What are you thinking? That's his! You gave it to him, and he's already made it clear that you can't read it!'

 

With a nod to reinforce her resolve not to peek in the journal, she pulled out the nightgown and robe she'd gotten from Leikizu. `Something special,' she thought with a slight smile as she traced over InuYasha's seal and wondered just what he'd think of the ensemble. `Well, there's only one way to find out . . . .'

 

It didn't take her long to change into the satin nightgown. Feeling a little too exposed in the flimsy little confection, she tugged at the spaghetti strapped nightie then donned the matching silk robe. It wasn't much but it did offer her a semblance of coverage . . . . She put on the slippers for good measure and stepped over to retrieve her brush from her desk drawer when the journal caught her eye once more. Before she could talk herself out of it, she snatched it up. `If I hurry, I can sneak a peek and put it back before he gets out of the bathroom . . . .'

 

With shaking fingers, she hurriedly opened the cover and turned back the first page . . . and gasped. `Oi, sneaky wench! Caught you!'

 

“InuYasha!” she mumbled, cheeks flaming as she stared at the bold words—his first entry.

 

After glancing over her shoulder through the doorway to make sure he was still in the bathroom, she turned the page.

 

`So this is a journal. Kagome says I should write down my feelings in here. I'm not too sure what that means. How do you put on paper, everything you feel? It doesn't really seem possible, to me. I think I'm too used to being alone. There isn't a need to talk when you're alone. You don't have to explain things, and you don't have to worry that no one will understand. I was alone for so long that it seems unnatural to have anyone want to be around me. Miroku, Sango, Shippou . . . . They say they're my friends, and I guess they are. Friends? And Kagome. Kagome is my friend, but she's more than that. I've tried to tell her. I've tried to make her understand. Somehow words are useless to me, and I can't voice the things I want her to know. I try to show her, but that doesn't work, either. Still, it's as though she really does understand, so maybe I'm not so worthless, after all . . . .'

 

“Worthless?” Kagome whispered, running her fingertips lightly over his written words as she frowned at that one word. He couldn't still think that, could he? She sighed. Maybe he wasn't a poet, and maybe he couldn't say whatever it was he wanted to say out loud. It didn't matter to her. She knew his heart, and his heart was a beautiful thing.

 

“I knew you'd never be able to leave that alone.”

 

Kagome jumped and screamed as she dropped the journal and spun around to face InuYasha, who was lounging casually in the doorway wearing nothing but a light blue towel tucked carelessly around his hips. Eyes lit with the familiar awareness of rising obsession, he stared at her, daring her to deny him. The air caught in her throat as she struggled to breathe. Knees trembling, skin suddenly aflame, the rush of desire that crashed into her was immediate, consuming. A low growl rumbled from him: a warning? A promise? A sultry demand as his eyelids drooped, half-closed, drunk on love. `How can he do that to me, with a simple look?'

 

Something else burgeoned in his gaze, something that tugged at her heart. Gentle, tender, misplaced in the wash of giddy unfulfilled ferocity; he stumbled forward, dropped to his knees as he wrapped his arms around her hips, nuzzling his cheek against her stomach.

 

“InuYasha?” she asked quietly, stroking his hair, fondling his ears. “What's wrong?'

 

He shook his head, tightened his arms around her, pulled her closer against him, quaking as he held onto her, afraid to let go? “Nothing's wrong,” he mumbled, voice harsh, desperation thick as he clung to her. “I just. . . .” he answered, tightening his hold on her again as a shiver ran down his spine. “I just want to hold you.”

 

Blinking back a wash of tears that gathered in her eyes, InuYasha's quiet entreaty tugged at her. He never asked her for much, and then when he did, he amazed her. Contenting herself with rubbing his ears, his rumble broke the stillness of the room, and he sighed. His breath was trapped between the satin and her skin, and Kagome moaned softly.

 

Slowly standing up again, InuYasha stepped back, glowing eyes overflowing, molten, thick gold that waxed and waned, burning with such fervor that Kagome couldn't look away. “Tell me what you want, Kagome,” he demanded, his voice a husky caress.

 

“You,” she answered simply, unblinking, unrelenting, staring back at him with a concentration that matched his own.

 

Lifting her as though she were weightless, he stepped over to the bed and set her on her knees. She leaned forward to touch him. He pushed her hands back, gentle yet firm. She moaned, head rolling to the side, as he pushed her robe off her shoulders, claws dragging over her flushed skin. Running his claws along the angles of her jaw, down the contour of her throat, teasing her collarbones with whispering touches, with softest strokes, she reacted to his body with a surge of heat, a shift in her fragrance, a deliberate flick of a match as a fire ignited somewhere between them. The invisible flames burned them both, scorching skin, searing flesh, as he pushed the thin straps off her shoulders, letting the gown fall to pool around her.

 

Leaning forward, one knee on the bed, InuYasha pulled her close, lifted her head with a cradling hand. As though she had lost her very will, she relinquished her body to him, the whispers of unspoken promises in his embrace. Her lips collapsed under his, welcoming him with soft sighs, with total acceptance as he slowly rediscovered every nuance of her mouth with his tongue.

 

Her body was dissolving in a current of ardor inspired by his tender touches, his soft explorations. Deliberately taking his time as he kissed her thoroughly, touched every part of her while holding her so close that she could feel his heart beat, so close that she could feel him press against her through the barrier of her panties.

 

He was her rock, the steadying force she held to, the light in the darkness of the unknown. “Touch me, Kagome,” he rasped out. Desperate and undeniable, her eyes darkened to a shimmering pool of blackest night, flecks of light rising like the sparks off an inferno, his demand urgent, the lure of her touch too strong.

 

Her hands were shaking as she brought them up, brushed her fingertips over the silken skin of his chest, his shoulders. His head fell back as she wrenched a growl from somewhere deep within. The sound emboldened her, goaded her. Slowing her investigation as his body trembled under her touch, she kneaded the muscle around his nipples, marveling at her power over him as she lowered her head to flick her tongue over his flesh. His hands gripped her shoulders, holding her as tightly as he dared, withstanding her assault as he wondered how much he could take before he died in her arms.

 

Squelching the devastating need to take her with all the passion she inspired, InuYasha strained against her, willing his body into compliance. He gasped as her hands delved lower, fingers running along the divide between the towel and his skin, caressing him as the cloth fell away. Teasing her way along his hipbones, along his hips, along his thighs, he uttered a low whine. The trembling increased, his body quaking against hers as Kagome's lips lingered in the shallow vale over his heart.

 

“Kagome,” he growled, voice raw, pleading. He wanted her to stop but needed her to continue. A paradox in motion, the beginning and end of his world, the meeting of light and darkness, she soared above him but reached down to support him, taking her with him as she uncovered his secrets. Her joy became his hell, his own private torture as she took her time in her languid expedition. Wanting her so badly that he ached, throbbed, felt as though he was trapped in the bowels of a volcano, he stubbornly held to the knowledge that Kagome would be worth the effort.

 

Her spirit could tame him and drive him to the brink of his control at the same time. As though the heavens decided to make one being so perfect, so beautiful, so untouchable, and as though the heavens gave her a body and a soul, a heart and a will as free as the wind, as flowing as the sea . . . . They named her Kagome, and they entrusted her to him. InuYasha let go of her arms, wrapped her into his embrace, brought his lips down over hers, promised her everything as she gave him a reason for being. Lost in her touch, reeling in her kiss, surrounded by her scent, the only thing he could understand was that she was his, and that forever wouldn't be nearly long enough.

 

Pressing her down onto the bed, he leaned over her, kissing her as he took care to remove her panties without tearing them. Hungry mouth consuming her body, hands idly roaming her flesh, he taunted her as she had done to him, taking his time as she arched and writhed, as she whimpered and moaned. She bucked her hips against him, uttered sounds of unrequited need. He adored her with his attention, unwilling to satiate both of their ambitions until he'd kissed every inch of her. Strangled cries—almost sobs—escaped her lips as her frustration spiked. Hunger built upon craving, quivering gave way to a searing fever of longing. Her scent was nearly driving him mad, the scent that called to him, drew him in.

 

Liquid passion surrounded his fingers as he touched her. With a ragged cry, she arched her back, her body tense, waiting. As though all of her passion centered on this one place, InuYasha dragged his mouth off her belly to stare at the place that scorched him. This part of her that was only his . . . he watched in fascination as she rocked her hips against his hand. Governed by instinct, driven by lust, willed by the lure of her body on his, drawn by her scent, so incredibly close, and his tongue darted out, captured her moisture, rubbed against her. She gasped, moaned, shuddered, melted. The taste of her cloaked his senses, precluded everything else as he claimed her in a wholly different way.

 

“Please,” she gasped out, hands tugging on fistfuls of silvery hair, “InuYasha . . . please . . . .”

 

One last soft flick of his tongue, one last gentle kiss to soothe her, one last thrust of her hips against him, one last delicious tremor that shook her small body as he glided over her, he gave in to her entreaties. Resting between her shaking thighs, he leaned up on his elbows, smoothed her hair out of her face. “Kagome,” he whispered, “look at me.”

 

It took her a few moments to comply with his request. Eyes hazy, unfocused, she tried to smile at him as her lips trembled, as she struggled to breathe. Entering her with calculated slowness, with aching patience that drew whimpers from her, she couldn't keep her eyes open as the web of perception ensnared her. Her body captured him, a perfect heat, a perfect melding, a perfect soul. She shuddered around him, squeezed him tightly, held him closer than her own heart as she slanted her hips against him. Gentle persuasion as desperation grew, a crush of the tide, a call to his heart answered time and again with cautious abandon, and subtle persuasion. A spark, a flame, a slow, aching blaze that intensified, glowed brighter, burned hotter, enveloping them in the wicked constraints of passion unfulfilled.

 

Everything about her whispered to him. She was the completion of his soul, the salvation of his sprit, the gentle creature who brought him home, made him whole, and gave him hope that the world was worth being in. Her intrinsic belief, her fundamental trust, his reason for fighting, Kagome was his sacred jewel. Surrounding him in her beauty, bathing him in her light, the push and pull of the tender glide as he fought against his desire to merge them, holding out, holding on, waiting for her.

 

Pulsing around him, the beat of her heart edging him closer to the divide, the beautiful darkness that led to the light beckoned him. `Wait for . . . Kagome,' his soul whispered. He moaned as she kissed his cheeks, kissed his chin, kissed his lips. Her body sparked, burned, sang to him a siren's song. Lost in the tide of her, he felt himself break free as she called out his name. A hoarse entreaty, the sound of her sobs, he cradled her close as he died just for her, only to be reborn in the wash of her tears.

 

Seconds ticked away, gauged by the small pink alarm clock. They flowed into minutes as InuYasha labored as he sought to remember how to breathe. Gradually the world stopped spinning, coherent thought returned, and he winced as he realized he was probably crushing Kagome under his weight. “Kagome?” he whispered, flopping onto his back, dragging her with him as she lay sprawled on his chest. “What's wrong?”

 

She hiccupped and choked out a laugh. “Nothing,” she assured him, her breathing ragged, harsh. He stroked her hair, held her closer, a soft whine escaping him as she tried to stop crying. “Have you ever been close to something so amazing that you just wanted to cry? Not because it was bad, but because it was . . . .”

 

“Beautiful,” he finished when she faltered. `Like . . . you, Kagome . . . .' Wrapping his arms around her and giving her a gentle squeeze, InuYasha smiled, blinking quickly as his eyes stung, burned. “Yeah,” he replied, kissing her forehead. “I have.”

 

 

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“I need you to do something for me.”

 

Myouga dragged his greedy stare away from the throbbing pulse in Sesshoumaru's neck. As though the tai-youkai could sense the flea's intent, he narrowed his gaze and raised his hand to swat the pest. Myouga hopped back, feigning righteous indignation at the idea that he would be trying to sneak a meal. “What is it you require, Sesshoumaru-sama?”

 

Knowing better than to trust the flea's proclaimed innocence, Sesshoumaru grabbed him between two fingers and deposited him on the desk. “InuYasha will seek you out to ask you about the well. I would like your promise that you shall be careful in what you tell him. InuYasha might be thick-headed but he is not ignorant.”

 

Myouga nodded slowly, propping himself up against a magazine. Glancing over at the fireplace, he stared at the wooden box on the mantle. “It's still empty?”

 

Sesshoumaru nodded once. “For now.”

 

“You say that as though you expect it to change.”

 

“I expect nothing.”

 

Shaking his head slowly, the flea youkai sighed. “Dangerous business, Sesshoumaru-sama. InuYasha-sama is not nearly as simple as he seems . . . and then there's Kagome-sama, too . . . . If InuYasha-sama doesn't catch it, there's a good chance she will.”

 

“Sometimes the truth is harder to see when you're staring it in the face.”

 

Myouga sighed again. “I'll see what I can do.”

 

Sesshoumaru nodded. “You must not fail, Myouga.”

 

Myouga bowed and hopped off the desk.

 

“Are you sure it's a good idea to keep this from them?”

 

Sesshoumaru glanced away from the empty wooden box to gaze at his mate as Leikizu sauntered over to him to perch on the edge of the desk beside him. “You know how impulsive he is. Think what he would do, if I told him the entire story.”

 

Leikizu's dark magenta eyes swept over Sesshoumaru's troubled expression. Holding out her hand, she clasped his hand tightly in hers. “You've been carrying the weight of it for five hundred years. Don't you think it's time to share the burden?”

 

He shook his head. “Soon enough.”

 

Leikizu smiled as Sesshoumaru tugged her into his lap. “It can't be good for you. You hold it all inside so tightly . . . do you really fear what InuYasha would do? Or do you think that you'll be perceived as less if you admit your mistakes?”

 

Golden eyes bored into hers, seeking answers to his own questions. “Would you think so?”

 

She smiled tenderly. “You know I wouldn't. It's time to stop hiding behind your excuses, Sesshoumaru. Tell them the story and let the chips fall where they may.”

 

A slight nod and a soft sigh were his answer. Shaking his head, he stared at his mate, five hundred years of recriminations still weighing on his mind, heavy, dense, disquieting. “Is what I'm doing wrong? Should I trifle with destiny?” he asked quietly.

 

Leikizu shook her head slowly. “No, my mate. The wrong was done before. You only seek to fix it now.”

 

A wan smile quirked the corners of Sesshoumaru's mouth. “My mate is as wise as she is beautiful.”

 

“And my mate hides himself behind such a cold façade . . . . You can't hide from me, darling. You never could.”

 

She leaned in, brushing a kiss over his lips. He could sense something troubling her. He sighed. “It isn't like you to hide things, Lei. What is it?”

 

Leikizu shrugged a little too casually. “I was just thinking . . . .”

 

When she trailed off, he squeezed her, letting his forehead rest against her shoulder. “Out with it.”

 

She smiled. “I was thinking . . . the house is so empty . . . .”

 

Sesshoumaru narrowed his gaze. “It's because of that kitsune, isn't it?”

 

“Some . . . not just because of Shippou.”

 

Sesshoumaru considered his wife's unasked question. Raising an eyebrow, he chuckled. “What do you think Nibori would say?”

 

“Nibori thinks you should get off your ass and do it,” Nibori remarked, sticking his head into the study with a wide grin.

 

Leikizu frowned at her son's language then laughed.

 

“I think you've been exposed to that ignorant brother of mine far too many times,” Sesshoumaru remarked but grinned slightly.

 

“As long as you realize big brothers don't do diaper duty.” Nibori winked and ducked back out of the room.

 

“Meet me upstairs, Lei,” Sesshoumaru whispered in her ear. “We'll see what we can do about this . . . .”

 

“Don't be long,” she murmured as she kissed him again. Standing up, he let her hold onto his hand until the contact broke off as she moved away. She stopped in the doorway and smiled at him before turning and disappearing into the hallway.

 

Sesshoumaru waited until Leikizu breezed out of the room before he opened the bottom drawer on his desk to pull out the fireproof box that he kept inside. Pulling out the aged scroll, he stared at it, expression blank. Katosan's words from so long ago came back to him, `It is for InuYasha-sama, should you choose to give it to him. He might find it of sovereign interest . . . eventually.'

 

Staring at the smudged seal—still intact, still preserved . . . . The seal of the Inu no Taisho. Turning the scroll over in his hand, letting the seal rest against his fingertips, the tai-youkai frowned. `Father . . . what was so significant that you left it to InuYasha?'

 

 

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“Aren't you sleepy?”

 

InuYasha cocked an eyebrow at Kagome. “Not especially. Why?”

 

She shrugged and blinked innocently. “No reason. I just thought you normally get tired after we . . . well, you just do.”

 

“What are you plotting?”

 

“Plotting? Nothing! Don't you trust me, InuYasha?”

 

He shook his head. “Keh!”

 

Scrunching up her shoulders, Kagome muttered an indignant, “Hrmph!”

 

“So spit it out. What're you up to, sneaky wench?”

 

“Nothing sneaky,” she assured him, rubbing the middle of his chest in a way that he enjoyed almost too much. “You know, I trust you. Completely. Without question. Absolutely.”

 

InuYasha snorted. “Keh, and I trust you to try to peek at my journal.”

 

“Oh, come on! Why don't you want me to read it? What did you write in it, anyway?”

 

InuYasha chuckled at her disgruntled tone. “I told you, you didn't ask.”

 

She heaved a sigh. “And you're saying that if I asked, you'd let me read it?”

 

InuYasha didn't get a chance to answer. His stomach growled so loudly that Kagome giggled and scrambled off the bed. “Oi, wench! Get back here!”

 

“I will,” she agreed as she snatched up her robe, “after I make you something to eat. Ramen?”

 

As much as he would love to lie around with her in his arms, the prospect of ramen . . . . “All right,” he agreed, leaning up on his elbows to watch her hurry out of the room. He sat up with a sigh, dragging her nightgown from the foot of the bed and lifting it to his nose. He closed his eyes, letting her scent envelop him as a small smile broke over his face.

 

He got up, dropping the gown on the bed as he ambled out into the kitchen. She was facing away from him, putting the ramen in the microwave. Sneaking up behind her, he chuckled as she gasped when he slipped his arms around her. “Shouldn't you be listening for danger at all times?” he mumbled as he kissed her temple.

 

“What danger?” she scoffed. “You're the only person here other than me.”

 

“I'm dangerous,” he informed her, his tone a little offended. She giggled. “I am,” he insisted, letting go of her and crossing his arms over his chest.

 

“You are,” she agreed, “but you're much more dangerous when you're wearing clothes.”

 

He grinned. “You think so?”

 

Catching his meaning, she blushed but smiled, too. “Well, maybe.”

 

His smile faded as he stared at the emblem embroidered on her robe. Stepping closer, he reached out with his index finger, tracing over the stitching with his claw. “What's this?” he finally asked. He knew what it was. He just wanted to know where she'd gotten it. “And why are you wearing the crest of that bastard brother of mine?”

 

Kagome didn't look like she knew what he was talking about. Glancing down, her mouth widened into an `o', and she shrugged. “That? It's not Sesshoumaru's crest. It's—”

 

“Keh! I know what the hell it is, wench. It's the seal of the Inu no Taisho—Sesshoumaru.”

 

She shook her head and stepped back since he had every intention of removing the offending garment with his claws to insure that she couldn't ever wear it again. “It's the mark of the Inu no Taisho—your father,” she hurriedly explained. “Actually, it's your crest. Sesshoumaru's is blue, and your father's was white. This one's yours, baka. Now put your claws away and let me finish your ramen.” That said, she turned her back on him to get his food out of the microwave oven.

 

InuYasha's eyes widened in surprise. `I have a crest?' Shaking his head in wonder, he grabbed Kagome's arm to turn her to face him again. She gasped as hot ramen broth sloshed out of the cup. It missed her hand and landed on the floor. She opened her mouth to grumble at him but noticed expression on his face. Rubbing the pad of his thumb over the crest he stared at the seal. `My crest?' “Who told you that was mine?”

 

She smiled. “Leikizu told me. She said you didn't know. Do you think I'd wear it if it was Sesshoumaru's?”

 

“Keh.” InuYasha flushed. `Of course she wouldn't.' Choosing to ignore her question, he took the ramen from her hand and snorted again. “And you're not allowed to call me `baka', remember?”

 

“Yes, yes, because we're mates, right?”

 

“Well, yes,” he insisted, his tone disgruntled at her obvious dismissal.

 

“All right, I'm sorry I had to point out that you were being a baka.”

 

He snorted at her backhanded apology. She pulled a dishcloth out of a drawer and wet it before wiping up the ramen mess as InuYasha dug out chopsticks and busied himself eating. “I'll get that,” he mumbled through a mouthful of ramen.

 

She shot him a tolerant look. “It's okay.”

 

He finished eating in silence and let her take his empty cup and utensils, picking up the manila envelope off the counter. He stared at it thoughtfully. “You think Shippou should go to school, too, don't you?”

 

Kagome shrugged as she rinsed the cup and threw it away. “I don't know. It would be good for him, but wouldn't it be weird, for us to leave him here with Mama?”

 

“It wouldn't be all the time, though, right?”

 

Sensing his upset over the idea of leaving Shippou at the shrine, Kagome sighed and shook her head, scrunching up her shoulders as she assured him, “We don't have to decide anything now, do we?”

 

He smiled half-heartedly and dropped the envelope before taking Kagome's hands and leading her back to the bedroom again. “Keh,” he remarked as he stretched out on the bed, pulling her into his arms as she snuggled against him. “I think it's pretty obvious, what Sesshoumaru thinks—which makes me want to do the exact opposite, bastard that he is.”

 

“I don't know, InuYasha. I think your brother now is different from the one you know in the past,” she mused, leaning up enough to rub his ears.

 

He leaned toward her more, allowing her easier access to his head. “Keh. I prefer the past one. At least I get to beat on him a little. This one is . . . .” InuYasha frowned. `Hiding something . . . .'

 

“I'm surprised you're even considering leaving Shippou, then,” Kagome said dryly.

 

InuYasha sighed, ears flattening as an air of dejection stole over him. “I wouldn't, but . . . Shippou wants to go, doesn't he?”

 

Kagome sighed. “I think so.”

 

Idly tracing the insignia on her robe, InuYasha couldn't help the surge of pride, the satisfaction of seeing Kagome—his mate—sporting his crest. Her body trembled under his fingertip as her scent shifted again, and he grinned. “I like being able to smell you,” he remarked, tracing claw spilling off the embroidery to drag against the fine silk robe.

 

“That's a really unfair advantage,” she pointed out, her tone airy, hushed.

 

He sighed, tilting her chin up, staring into her eyes as he pulled her in for a kiss. “So . . . you tired, wench?”

 

She smiled, her eyes dazed. “No . . . not at all . . . .”

 

In one fluid movement, he pinned her against the mattress. Her giggle turned into a sigh as his lips dropped to her neck. `InuYasha, five—sneaky wench, one.'

 

 

 

 

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A/N:

 

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Final Thought from Kagome:

InuYasha, we need to talk about your score keeping… I know I'm closer than that. . .

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Blanket disclaimer for this fanfic (will apply to this and all other chapters in Chronicles): I do not claim any rights to InuYasha or the characters associated with the anime/manga. Those rights belong to Rumiko Takahashi, et al. I do offer my thanks to her for creating such vivid characters for me to terrorize.

 

~Sue~